The Khaki Boys at Camp Sterling; Or, Training for the Big Fight in France

by Gordon Bates

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE WORK OF A FIEND

  Returned to barracks three more men of Platoon 4, Company E, were addedto the list of sufferers from that sinister seizure. As a result thosestill unvisited by it were promptly ordered to report at the regimentalhospital for treatment. The fact that a number of Company E men at drillin other platoons had also collapsed had increased the gravity of theaffair to a point that required instant action on the part of themedical department. The symptoms of the peculiar malady were such as toindicate poisoning. They called for speedy investigation and theadministering of a precautionary antidote to such of the men as had thusfar showed no signs of sickening.

  It was the first real catastrophe that had ever struck Camp Sterling andthe news of it spread like wildfire throughout the camp. To one and allit seemed almost incredible that a "poison plot" had reached successfulculmination in Company E mess kitchen. Undoubtedly it _had_ centeredthere. None other than men from Company E's barracks had felt any illeffects from their noon meal. Yet who could guess as to how far such acalamity might extend?

  Released from drill for the balance of the day, the half hour betweenRetreat and mess that evening marked the ending of a troubled afternoonin Company E barracks. An air of deep gloom hung over the squad room inwhich the four Khaki Boys bunked.

  Bob, Jimmy and Roger were in especially low spirits. Ranged in adejected row on Roger's cot they were a most unhappy trio.

  "It's awful," groaned Jimmy. "Poor old Iggy. He looked ready to croakwhen they took him to the hospital. What do you suppose it was thatpoisoned 'em? We ate the same stuff they did and we're all right--yet."

  "Don't you know yet what poisoned 'em?" Bent forward, chin in hand, Bobstraightened up with a jerk. "I'll tell you. It was the rice pudding. Wedidn't touch it, but poor old Iggy did."

  "By George, that's so! I must be thick not to have doped out that muchfor myself. I'd forgotten about Iggy's starting to eat it."

  "So had I." Roger looked disgusted at his own forgetfulness. "That's whya lot of men didn't get sick. They passed up the pudding, too, becauseThanksgiving sweet stuff made 'em finicky."

  "I caught it the minute that rain-maker over at the hospital asked mewhat I ate for dinner," declared Bob. "He gave me a queer look when Itold him 'no pudding' and made a note of it. I was going to mention itto you, then I thought I'd wait and let you figure it out."

  "Then they must know it already at headquarters," asserted Jimmy.

  "Sure they know it," nodded Bob. "Whatever was left of that rice puddingis under chemical analysis by this time. They have to act quickly in acase like this."

  "Iggy may pull through all right." Jimmy brightened. "He only ate onespoonful of the stuff. I was watching him. He tried it and said: 'Notaste nothin'.' Then he didn't touch it again. I know, 'cause rightafterward we all beat it out of the mess hall. What about Simpson,though? I can see him yet, and hear him groan."

  Simpson had been the first man to collapse.

  "Poor fellow." Roger's tones vibrated with intense sympathy. "He's afine man and a splendid soldier. I've been expecting every day to seehim jump to corporal. Now----" He paused, reluctant to voice his doubtof Simpson's recovery.

  "It might turn out not to be poison, you know," said Bob reflectively."Somebody may have dosed the pudding with something that would make themen deathly sick and yet not finish 'em. Only hope that's the case. Thiswill raise some ructions here in camp, believe me. Every one of thoseguys in the mess kitchen'll be held for a third degree. No one'ssupposed to have anything to do with the grub but them. Yet they mightall be as innocent as babies. Some fiend may have doctored the rice orthe milk before it ever struck camp." Wise in the ways of the newspaperworld, Bob was already full of plausible theories concerning thedreadful affair.

  "Suppose it was poison, nobody could accuse a man on kitchen detailunless pretty good proof of it came up against him," stoutly assertedRoger.

  "They'll grill the whole bunch to a standstill. If any one of 'em showsthe least sign of guilt--Bing! Into the jug he goes for trial by a courtmartial. If he's found guilty, Bang! Porous!"

  "I don't believe a man in this camp would do such a horrible thing!"Jimmy's voice rang with intense loyalty.

  "We hope not," gravely rejoined Bob. "You can never tell, though. Thiswhole country's honey-combed with spies and myrmidons of the CentralPowers. The Secret Service has run down more of 'em than anyone canguess at. I know of a few things from being on the _Chronicle_.Sometimes I've thought we're all asleep over here. But we're waking up.Too bad it took us so long to do it."

  "Gee, but I'm glad Iggy went off kitchen duty before this happened!Missed it by only two days!"

  "Just in time to get doped, instead of getting hauled up for doping,"retorted Bob. "It's about as bad one way as the other."

  "Oh, you!" Jimmy grew indignant. "You know I didn't mean it that way.Just the same, I'd rather he'd be in hospital than under a cloud becausesome others are there. I'd hate to see a friend of mine in bad for----"

  "A friend of _ours is_ in bad!" Bob fairly bounced to his feet. "Schnitzis on kitchen detail! Great Jehosephat! And he's a German-American,too!"

  Into three pairs of eyes leaped a consternation born of this belatedreflection. It looked as though Schnitz was in for it.

  "Tough luck," emphasized Jimmy, equally concerned over Schnitzel'spredicament. "Too bad it wasn't Bixton instead." Jimmy cast anunfriendly glance across the squad room to where Bixton, as usual,lounged on his cot. He also had escaped disaster.

  "Oh, come now." Roger could not refrain from smiling. "You don't meanthat, Blazes. It's wrong to wish trouble on any man, no matter what hemay be. I don't believe even Schnitzel would wish that on Bixton, andhe's had to take a lot from that sneak. Schnitz is too----"

  "By the way, where is Schnitz?" Jimmy was staring darkly at Schnitzel'sempty cot. "Maybe he's in hospital, too. He wasn't at drill, so we don'tknow----"

  "Whether he's in hospital or in arrest," finished Bob significantly, "Ihaven't seen a man on kitchen detail since noon. You can draw your ownconclusions. Right after mess to-night I'm going out news-gathering.I'll bet I find out something, too. I know where I can get someinformation."

  "Mess!" grimaced Jimmy. "I hate to think of it. I'm not hungry enough torisk getting mine to-night."

  "We all feel the same," agreed Bob. "They say lightning never strikestwice in the same place, though. I won't be a quitter. I'll take achance. Probably we'll get something solid to eat to-night that it wouldbe hard to doctor. You can look for some new faces in the mess kitchen.Take my word for it."

  Bob's prediction was verified almost to the letter. Supper that nightconsisted of bread, boiled potatoes and beefsteak, served by a newdetail of kitchen men. Not one of the old detail was on duty, which wentto prove that they were either ill or had been held on suspicion.

  The three Khaki Boys never forgot that particular meal. Each felt thatevery mouthful of food he ate might contain a fatal dose of poison.Iggy's absence also greatly added to their depression. All hoped for thebest, yet feared the worst. The same heavy oppression clutched theircomrades, who alike had bunkies of their own to worry over.

  Bob returned to barracks with Roger and Jimmy, only to sally forth againon his quest for news. Jimmy was anxious to go with him, but for onceBob did not desire company. "Bobby's got to go it by himself," heobjected. "You're a lovely young corporal, Blazes, but you don't fitinto my plan. 'He travels fastest who travels alone,' you know. Anyother time I'd be delighted, but, to quote our dear, I won't saydeparted, Iggy, 'no now.'"

  Tattoo had sounded before Bob reappeared, his black eyes glittering withsuppressed excitement. "I've had a busy evening," he announced, as Jimmyand Roger began hurling eager questions at him. "Pile onto my cot andI'll tell you what I know."

  "Fire away," ordered Jimmy impatiently as the three gathered together,eager to hear what Bob had discovered.

  "First of all, Iggy's better." Bob beamed, as he told this importantnews. "He
wasn't nearly so sick as the rest. He may be back hereto-morrow night."

  "Hooray!" rejoiced Jimmy, though in a very moderate tone.

  "That's fine!" Roger's sober features grew radiant.

  "Simpson's gone west." The light faded from Bob's face.

  "When--did--he----" Jimmy could not bring himself to say the dread word.

  "Soon after they took him to hospital." Bob was silent for a moment."He--he--suffered terribly. One of those two that dropped rightafterward is--is--gone. Brady, that slim, curly-headed fellow, that wasalways laughing. The other may pull through. All the rest will, I guess.They're pretty sure it was the pudding. Simpson asked for a secondportion of the stuff. I'd like to get my hands on the fiend thatpoisoned it. I'd choke the life out of him!"

  "They're taking it hard at headquarters," Bob continued. "The K. O.'swild about it. Says he'll never rest till he gets the one who did it.That's what I heard. I didn't have a personal interview with him." Thislast with grim humor. "They gathered in the k. m.'s before they'dfinished their work. Don't know what's been done to 'em, so far.Couldn't get a line on that. Don't know whether the story broke in timefor an evening extra or not. I couldn't get one. The morning papers willbe full of it. There'll be a bunch of reporters on the scene to-morrow.It's hinted that arsenic was used. Nobody'll know that, though, untilthe pudding's been analyzed and post mortem held on--on----" Bob drew asharp, whistling breath. "A dog's death for two brave fellows to die,"he went on with intense bitterness.

  "Yet they died in their country's service," reminded Roger softly. "Theydid their level best for Uncle Sam while they lasted. Brady and Simpson;splendid boys and good soldiers." Unconsciously, Roger had voiced thefinest eulogy that a man could desire to have spoken of him.

  "Yes, we mustn't forget that," assented Bob sadly. "This has been ahorrible day. I wish I could wipe it off my slate. But I can't. And thenthere's Schnitz to think of. Anything out of the ordinary happen while Iwas gone?" he asked with sudden irrelevance.

  "Not a thing. Why?" Jimmy detected anxiety in the question.

  "I thought maybe there'd be a guard detail sent to go through thekitchen men's stuff. It's too early for that, I guess. You don't supposeSchnitz would have anything among his traps that might look bad for him,do you?"

  "What could he have?" wondered Roger. "We know he couldn't have anypoison. What else could there be?"

  "Nothing." Bob hesitated. "It's only on account of his nationality. Youknow how Bixton's talked about him. You know, too, why our fellows werepoisoned. He's the only G. A. in this barrack. He was on kitchen duty.Now suppose he had some trifle among his belongings that was perfectlyall right in itself, but looked fishy to the search party? It's notlikely to be so, but it might be."